Parallel
by Ashley-the-Weirdo
Summary: Kendall Knight: New superstar actor with an Emmy nomination under his belt for his breakout role in 'A Summer Song'. Logan Mitchell: The newbie writer for 'Time's Magazine' who may be the only person in the country that loathed Kendall's performance. Could one interview cost Logan his new job, and cost Kendall his whole career? Or, will an unlikely romance bud? (Slash, Kogan)
1. Fate

**A/N:** **Another story! Somebody please stop me…**

**I don't own Big Time Rush, nor do I own Time's Magazine. But how awesome would that be, though?**

"Rise and shine, my little blonde sociopath."

A stream of bright light shone through my closed eyelids as I vaguely registered the voice that was speaking to me. I had a killer hangover from the night before, and I instantly made a promise to myself to never drink an ounce of liquor ever again in my life.

"You know what, James? Ever since I gave you that key to my apartment, I've been regretting it ever since." I mumbled groggily, burying my face deep into my pillow. At this point, I'd rather smuggle myself to death than move an inch out of this bed.

"You always know exactly what to say to make a guy feel special." James, my assistant/best friend retorted. I barely noticed the brown-haired beaut crouch onto his knees beside my bed, lifting up the dangling sheets in the process, and peer underneath the piece of furniture. I groggily scooted my body over, and peered my head from atop the bed to spy on exactly what the hell he was doing. I still had no clue as he hopped back up, working his way over to my walk in closet and searching in that as well.

"Looking for something? I would guess your dignity judging by those tight ass pants you're wearing, but I could be wrong."

"You basically just admitted you were checking me out, but I'll let that slide. I was just checking to make sure I wouldn't have to kick anybody out this time. You know how you LOVE your drunken one-night stands." says James cheekily, and I snort.

"Three times. Only three times have you had to kick someone out." I said with an eye roll, making a weak attempt to sit up and prop myself against the headboard. Just as I had succeeded, James nonchalantly threw a piece of paper at my face.

"Here's today's itinerary. Considering how much of a busy day you have today, I'll be looking forward to hearing you bitch about the massive headache you'll be sporting."

"I forgot to say something earlier, and I've been meaning to say this ever since you opened those bright – ass blinds: Fuck you. Now that that's taken care of, you know good and damn well that I can't read this shit due to the hammer pounding in my brain as of right now."

"Oh, I have to read for you now, too? Why don't I just start doing your interviews, too? Better yet, why don't I do all your acting for you, too? Why don't I also just-"

"Stop being a smartass, and read the fucking schedule, my dear friend." I say with a light smirk.

James lets out a hearty laugh. It was the same laugh I've been hearing ever since sixth grade, except maybe with a little more bass to it. The guy can be a pain in the ass at times, but he's pretty much the only constant thing I have left in my life, besides my mother and little sister. In the entertainment business, you never _truly _know who your friend is, but James has always been ride or die with me. He means a shitload to me, although I'd of course never admit that to him; I just assume he already knows.

"Well, first of all, my royal highness," says James as he habitually started to pick up random objects strewn along my apartment floor. "You have a meeting with your publicist in about an hour. I told you this yesterday just so you wouldn't be late, and yet, here we are again on the verge of tardiness. You know how Carlos is about punctuality, Kendall." James reprimanded towards me as he piled a mountain of clothes off of my floor into a laundry basket.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, why does Carlos want to see me anyway?" I said with a wave of my hand, throwing the sheets off of my body, and positioning myself on the edge of my bed.

"Apparently, your 'baby mother' has come forward to make you take care of your 'son'." James deadpanned, my eyes rolling as I let out an exasperated groan. The lies random people came up with just to get a few seconds of fame will always baffle me.

"I never knew you were even straight. Should I enlighten Jo on this new development?" asks James, his voice dripping in sarcasm.

"If it'll keep her crazy ass away, then I might just let you do that." I blurted out, physically shuddering at the thought of my ex – girlfriend Jo. We had been dating for about a year in our senior year of high school before I came to the realization that I was gay. Let's just say…Jo didn't take the news too well. She's been stalking me ever since, and I haven't even mentioned that it's been seven years since we broke up.

"Don't sweat yourself about it; Jett is taking care of it. Threaten them with a lawsuit, and they'll apologize to the public in no time."

"Ah, Jett the super-agent. Gotta love the guy. Besides the news of my heterosexual-ness, anything else I should be worrying about today?"

"Then, at twelve, you have a commercial filming with ProActive, so I highly suggest that you shave off that hideous nine o' clock shadow." James grimaced with a glance at me, tidying up some of the mess of papers on my desk. I pouted lightly before rubbing at my stubble, thinking that it made me look manlier; guess not.

"Lastly, you have a lunch meeting with that representative from Time's Magazine. They've been _begging _for an interview with, who they called in their last issue, _'The next great actor of this generation'._"

"Whoa, seriously?" My interest immediately perking up at the thought of such a prestigious magazine honoring my movie work.

"Dude, you're climbing up the celebrity status ladder pretty fucking fast. After your debut in _A Summer Song, _everybody is starting to recognize the face of Kendall Knight. I mean, you're nominated for an _Emmy. _So, get used to the compliments, pretty boy." says James, throwing a bottle of Advil in my direction. I caught the bottle instantly, my mind still wheeling around the news that people are considering me a _celebrity_. _A Summer Song hit theaters a month ago, and _was my first breakout role. To be truthfully honest, I never thought I'd do well enough to be nominated for an Emmy. A fucking _Emmy _for best male actor. It's still unbelievable.

"Now, get dressed. Unless, of course, you planned on going through your day in your underwear. I don't know how Carlos would feel about _that_ type of publicity."

**Meanwhile…**

My palms were sweating to the point that every time I wiped them on my neatly – pressed khaki pants, they left a wet stain.

_Logan, calm down. You can do this. It's just a silly job interview! Oh, who am I kidding, it's the biggest interview of my life. If I get this job, I'll be working for Time's Magazine. Yeah, the most well-known magazine company in the fucking world. Oh God, I feel like I'm going to throw up._

"Logan Mitchell? Mr. Roque is ready to speak to you now." says the brown – haired receptionist of Time's Magazine Headquarters. She wore a bright smile and gestured her hand in the direction of Mr. Roque's office, also known as the head editor of Time's Magazine. Oh God, now I'm _really _going to throw up.

I sent a shaky smile her way before following the lady down a narrow hallway. We passed by numerous doors, all containing the lovely sound of shuffling papers. Maybe if I got the job I'd have one of these offices. Maybe I'd even have my name on the door, too. Maybe I'd-"

"Just knock when you're ready to go in. Good luck!" the lady interrupted with that everlasting smile still on her face. She quickly strutted off back in the direction we came, the sound of her black pumps following along with her. I gulped down a large wad of saliva down my throat as I found myself standing in front of a large door, and saw the name written on the glass door in bold, black words: G. Roque. I gently knocked, immediately greeted with a loud "Come in!"

I turned the knob, pushing the door open, and poked my head in. I was greeted with the sight of a heavy-set man, looking to be around forty. He had a headset pressed in his ear, and a frown pointed at nothing in particular. It took me a moment to realize he was on the phone.

"No, no, no, NO. You tell that asshole that he either talks to me about this, or he can shove a fist up his ass. I am Gustavo Roque! I'm _amazing_, and I get final say in this." Mr. Roque said loudly and brashly, gesturing me into the room without even taking a glance at me. I quickly stepped into the large, tidy office, closing the door behind me. I slowly worked my way over to the front of his desk, taking a seat in one of the white, expensive – looking chairs he had set there.

"NO, NO, HELL NO. You know what, Jimmy? Tell him to just forget it!" Mr. Roque said with finality in his voice, pressing a button on his headset to end the call. His eyes were flaming with anger, and as soon as he ended the call, he flashed his eyes towards me.

"Who the hell are you?" said Mr. Roque, confusion more laced in his voice than anger. My words came out in a nervous stutter.

"I-I'm Logan Mitchell, Sir. I'm here for the job interview you called me back about?"

"Ah, the amateur that my assistant recommended. Listen here, Mitchell. This is a million-dollar magazine company, understand? If I hire you, and you do something wrong, which you probably will, guess who that falls back on? ME, the _amazing _Gustavo Roque. And when that happens, depending on the situation, I will not hesitate to cut you off like an unnecessary limb, clear?"

I nodded frantically, my nerves skyrocketed at this point. He's not the nicest guy ever, eh?

"Now that we got that straight, I read the article you did for the local newspaper on that movie _A Summer Song _last month. It was rude, it was brash, it was over - opinionated…And I loved it. You got guts kids, trashing a movie that a lot of people loved, and those types of risk takers are exactly the types of people I need on this crew."

"In my defense, sir, I never meant to downright trash the movie…I was just saying that Mr. Knight's performance wasn't as spectacular as everyone hyped it up to be. He's just another Hollywood pretty boy, if you ask me."

"Exactly. You went against the crowd, and you earned some major points for that. Hell, I liked the damn movie, but after reading your article, even I had doubts on the kid's performance. You're persuasive, and I love that. How old are you, Mitchell?"

"I'm twenty – four, sir."

Good. You're young, exuberant, maybe brilliant, perhaps. And know that I don't tell that to just anyone, ok? That's why I'm hiring you."

_I'm sorry, did I hear that right?_

"I'm…hired? As in…I have the job?"

"Mitchell, did I stutter? Yes, you're hired, and you start now. You have an interview to do with Mr. Knight at four."

"Oh my goodness, thank you so so so much, Mr. Roque. This means the world- wait, did you just say Mr. Knight? As in, Kendall Knight?"

"Look, kid. I know you OBVIOUSLY don't like him, but this interview would do wonders for the magazine. Kendall Knight is a celebrity now, and we need this interview. All I'm asking is that you put aside your differences for one hour. I'd get someone else to do it, but I like partnering up our celebrities with people around their age group, you know? And you're the only one that at that mid – twenty mark like Mr. Knight. Unless, of course, you'd rather not have this job. I could always find someone else to-"

I quickly interrupted him, frantically shaking my head.

"No, no, no, it's fine. I…I'll do the interview."

"Figured you see it my way. Now, get out of my office. Camille will lead you to yours. Can't have the newbie entertainment writer bothering the editor, now can we?"

"N-no sir! Thank you, I'll just…go." I dazedly got up and rushed out of the office, shutting the door behind me.

I couldn't help the shriek of happiness the omitted from my lips, afterwards.

**A/N:** I dunno. Maybe you guys liked it, maybe not. Favorite, follow, review, and tell me what you thought! Those always make me happy. Should I continue? Just lemme know. – Ashley-the-Weirdo

**P.S.:** Oh, and there's a poll on my profile page. If you, you know, wanna check it out and vote for a story I should continue. Love you guys!


	2. The Truth Wouldn't Hurt

"I think you missed a stray strand of hair…there, all better!" says Jett as he ruffled up my dirty blonde hair, effectively messing it up. I sent a glare his way, quickly attempting to fix my hair in front of the vanity mirror I was seated in front of. This ProActive commercial shoot was taking forever, and I was starting to get a tad bit aggravated from the lack of food in my stomach.

"Jett, I understand your love for perfection, but quit it before I slice your hand off." I snapped at my agent, a smile spreading across his face.

We had been at this damn shoot for about two hours already, and I was beginning to worry that I might miss that interview with Time's Magazine. The last thing I would want to do is miss the opportunity to be featured in one of America's most influential magazines of all time.

"How long are we gonna be here? This is ridiculous. I don't even have acne." I glanced at Jett in frustration, his eyes rolling dramatically. He stepped behind my chair, set his hands on my shoulders, and caught my gaze in the mirror.

"This isn't about whether or not you have acne, Kendall. This is about the fact that a million – dollar acne product industry decided to use YOU as their poster child. Think about how much exposure this'll give you. You're an actor, an amazing one at that, and I'm truly confident that telling a little lie about your nonexistent blemishes won't kill you." Jett stated with a shrug of his shoulders and a matter-of-fact tone in his voice.

"You're all for playing this little lying game, huh?" said I with a glint of resentment in my eye. My agent's eyes narrowed, and a small smirk occupied his face. His grip on my shoulders tightened incredibly, and he lower his lips to speak into my ear.

"Look. I did what I had to do to get you into this business. So, stop acting ungrateful, and make sure that you do everything in your power to make me not regret giving you everything that you could've asked for…even if that means telling a few measly lies." Jett said in a low, quiet tone before releasing his hands from me, ruffling my neat hair up again, and stalking off.

God, I've never wanted to punch the prick so badly than now. Although a part of me will always hate Jett, he's kind of right. Without him and his connections, I never would've been able to live out my dreams all while taking care of my family like I am now…even if I'm doing it in an untruthful way. Jett's words were replaying through my head before a familiar face popped up behind me in the mirror with a triumphant smile on his face. I suspiciously quirked an eyebrow at a certain tall brunette, whom looked like he had just successfully robbed a bank. I did notice that his usually pressed, wrinkle-free button down shirt was now crinkled, and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you since my meeting with Carlos ended, and that was two hours ago. I've been dying of boredom." Said I to James, my hands, once again, on a mission to re-fix my head of hair.

"Oh, you know. Carlos and I decided to get a cup of coffee. I figured you wouldn't need me too much."

"And by 'cup of coffee', do you mean a quickie in the backseat of your car?"

"NO…I mean a quickie in the backseat of HIS car."

We both chuckled simultaneously, and I sent a good-natured eye roll his way.

"Seriously, this whole 'fuck in the backseat of your car' shit is really starting to get high school-ish. Why aren't you two dating again?"

"Because, Carlos is very invested in his job, and I am very invested in all the hot men and sexy women of the world."

"So…basically, he's in love with his job, and you're afraid of commitment?"

"Hey, I am NOT afraid of commitment. I just…haven't found that right person yet."

"Whatever you say, Jamie. Whatever you say."

"SHOOTING STARTS IN FIVE MINUTES!" Yelled the director from behind the camera.

"Finally." I muttered under my breath as I hopped out of my chair, turning to face James with my hands on my hips.

"So, how do I look?" I asked in a high, girlish voice before twirling around, showing off the plain, white V-neck I was wearing along with these tight-ass blue jeans.

"Great! Except one problem…"

"What?"

"You've never had any acne, but you're shooting an acne commercial."

"James, you'll learn eventually that this business isn't about the truth; it's about how famous you can get while holding up a bottle of 'Renewal Cleanser'"

_**Meanwhile…**_

"And this is your office."

My jaw dropped as soon as the receptionist, whose name I soon learned was Camille, opened the door to reveal a large, mostly empty room. A large, oak desk was set right in the middle of the room with a phone set on top of it. The walls were bare and the blinds were shut, which gave off a dreary mood, but overall I didn't care. All my dreams were coming true all at once, and I couldn't be more grateful.

"And that's pretty much the tour of this place. Oh! The bathroom is up the hall, if you need anything else from me, just dial 4 on the phone and I'll be automatically connected to you, and just a word of advice Logan, try to steer clear of Mr. Roque. He can be a bit of a ticking time bomb." Said Camille with a light chuckle, her hands clasped behind her back. I was very much still in a daze as I took in this concept of me having my very own office, but not dazed enough to not notice Camille's eyes wander up and down my body.

"Thank you, Ms. Rodgers. You've been an amazing help."

"Oh, please call me Camille. And I've been happy to help. Congratulations, Logan. It'll definitely be a pleasure to work with you." An unexpected flirtatious wink was sent my way, causing a light blush to cover my cheeks. She gave one last smile and waved before she retreated out of the room, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she left, I silently fist pumped, a giant grin breaking out across my face. My mind was already set to work as I thought of how I wanted to decorate my new office, but my grin slowly faded as I remembered my first assignment was set at four. It was already two-thirty, and I needed to think up some questions for the so-called 'superstar.' But for right now, how about I just have a little fun in this lovely swirly chair that I've been given? I hopped in the chair, folding my short legs into it and swirled myself around and around.

Oh, yeah. I could get used to this.'

**Author's Note: **If you guys weren't sure, the first half of this story was in Kendall's POV, and second half was in Logan's. Hopefully this chapter didn't suck too badly, and I'm sorry that it was so short. I'll be updating again soon. Kogan starts up next chapter, yaaaay! So, what part of Kendall's past do you think he's lied about? What do you think about Jett? What do you think about James' and Carlos' complicated circumstances? Lemme know in the reviews! They always make me oh-so happy! – Ashley


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